


Mark My Flesh (With Teeth and Fire)

by QuackTracks



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alpha Clarke Griffin, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Elemental Magic, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Girl Penis Clarke Griffin, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Lexa, Omega Verse, Smut, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-01 13:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13295619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuackTracks/pseuds/QuackTracks
Summary: The fighting slowed, the ache in Lexa’s body became more and more apparent, and she noted the sluggish movements of the blonde alpha beside her. When a lull settled around them, Lexa grabbed the warrior's cuirass and pulled her close.“You will finish this, alpha. You will survive.”The woman’s blue eyes flashed dangerously, defiantly, at the order, her chest heaving in and out.“Yes. Commander.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh, I just kept thinking about Lexa and Clarke being badasses together. This isn't edited because I'm not sure if I'll continue. I have a bit more written, but I might not post it unless this is received well haha. 
> 
> Really, this was written on a road trip and has had no revision. 
> 
> Also, I am in no way a strategist. Sorry if the battle scenes don't seem realistic to y'all.

“You alright, C?”

Clarke groaned and rolled to the side, her forehead sticky with blood and aching fiercely. She swore she had at least two broken ribs, and the small pieces of glass sticking out of her didn’t feel awesome either. She tried to meet her friend’s eyes. 

“I'm perfect, Tave.”

Octavia smirked and lowered to a crouch beside Clarke’s head. She waved in her general direction.

“You sure? You got a little blood. Oh, and that shard of glass. Need a healer?”

Clarke dragged her arm under her body and planted it in the dirt, teeth clenched in pain. 

“I'm fine.”

She pushed herself up, forced her other arm down, and leveraged herself onto her hands and knees. The effort had her panting and dizzy, and she closed her eyes and remained still for a few minutes. 

The uneven trudge of footsteps alerted them to Raven’s arrival.

“Clarkey got her ass beat again?”

Clarke snarled and glared at her friend, ignoring the glance of pain in her head at the quick movement. Raven chuckled and held out her hands.

“Come on. I’m just teasing. Need some help?”

Clarke huffed and looked back at the ground, watching drops of blood and sweat fall from her nose to the dirt. She slowly pushed her feet under her and stood from the dirt. A stumble had Octavia steadying her, and Clarke growled and shoved her hand away. Raven snickered and winked at Octavia behind Clarke’s back. 

“Somebody is grumps. Any reason that might be?”

Clarke spit out a clump of dirt and blood that had somehow formed in her mouth, and she sucked at her teeth. It was taking everything in her to keep her pheromones in check. She never wanted to bend her friends to her will. 

This was the fourth time in as many weeks that she'd faced off against her first and lost. It wasn't a point of pride that had her fury lining the straights of her bones, but instead, a fear that she would never improve. Her first, a vicious omega called Omela, had beaten her to the ground within a short, five-minute period. There were no rules, no limitations besides avoiding death, and she'd been more wounded by her first than anyone else. And of course, Omela left her to clean up her own wounds. She said it was a part of life.

She was supposed to take leadership of the clan in less than a year, and every time she lost, she felt the weight of her people’s expectations dropping heavier on her shoulders. 

Clarke shook her head to clear it, reigning in her aggravation and committing to an hour of extra training each day. Her father and mother would not approve, and Finn would be upset that she was replacing her time with him, but she spent so much of her free time thinking about how to dump him that it wasn't a large concern for her. He's been fun for a few months, but he was weak. She did not do well with weakness; especially her own. 

Raven caught her attention with a nudge as they exited the forest and came into view of the city. They walked to the gates, nodded to the guards, and entered under the archway. 

The city sprawled before them, huts made of wood and stone, people milling about or working. Raven frowned at Clarke’s extended silence. 

“You okay, Clarkey?”

Clarke sighed and nodded her head. No weakness of any kind. 

“I'm fine, Rae. Just tired. I should get this glass out of me so I can get back to the pits. I'll see you guys for dinner?”

Octavia grabbed her arm. 

“Are you fucking serious? You can hardly walk.”

Clarke tried to pull away again but stumbled and growled in frustration and snapped.

“I'm fine.” At Octavia’s recoil, Clarke tried to reel in her tone. She took a deep breath and let it out. “I'm fine.”

Octavia rolled her eyes and turned the opposite direction.

“It's your body, C.”

Raven waited until she was out of earshot before sighing. 

“She's just looking out, Clarke. You're worrying her.”

Clarke kept her eyes up, looking at nothing. 

“I know.”

Raven huffed as they passed through the crowds, many nodding their respect toward the future leader. 

“You're worrying a lot of people.”

Clarke chose not to respond, instead letting her attention wander. They cut through the market square, passing people selling wares and produce, and they exited two homes down from her own. She narrowed her gaze on the strange guards outside her family’s home. She faintly recognized the symbol, and it had a tremor of fear flaring in her spine and chest. She took off at a run, ignoring the pain in her stomach and Raven’s call for her to wait. 

She burst through her door, eyes immediately searching. A dark scent filled her nostrils, the pheromones of two alphas. She growled instinctively and moved toward where the scent was stronger. 

There, at her kitchen table with her father and mother, were two soldiers from Azgeda. She snarled, her body lowering into a threatening stance. Despite their upturned noses, she could tell they feared her. 

“What is this?”

Her skin prickled with something like a warning, and she took a threatening step forward. One alpha narrowed his eyes at her and stood.

“We are discussing important matters with the clan leader. You are not welcome.”

Clarke growled, allow her pheromones to flick out dangerously and surround the two alphas. They bared their teeth, and the one that remained sitting jolted to his feet.

“Watch yourself, bitch.”

Clarke looked to her parents to see why they hadn't spoken a word, and she found them staring at her with resignation in their eyes. And shame. Deep, scorching shame. She had a very, very bad feeling.

“What is this?”

The first alpha who stood grinned darkly. 

“We’re here discussing a...trade of sorts with your clan.”

Clarke glared at them. 

“Nobody deals with Azgeda by the order of the Commander.”

The alpha looked over at Abby.

“Tell that to your sires, pup. The deal is done.”

Clarke’s heart sank the longer she stood listening, the longer her parents said nothing. 

“What deal?”

Abby stood them, her face drawn and pale.

“You will be wed to the Azgeda queen in two months time.”

Clarke reared back, eyes flashing with confusion and hurt, then being overtaken by rage.

“Like hell.”

The first alpha took a step toward her. 

“It isn't your decision, princess.”

Clarke’s breath came in deep pulls as she tried to remain in control. She stared at her mother.

“I will not do this.”

Abby tried to hide the pain she felt behind a stern gaze, but Clarke knew her much too well.

“You have to, Clarke.”

Clarke’s hackles raised.

“Never.”

Abby stood from the table, her own alpha pheromones reaching out to drag Clarke into submission, but Clarke had overcome her mother long before this day. She resisted, throwing her own in defiance and watching with great pleasure as her mother stared at her in shock. It faded when she saw her father close his eyes.

“Clarke, you must marry the queen.”

Clarke was closer to nobody more so than her father. He would never…. 

“What have they threatened?”

The alphas before her grinned.

“Oh, let’s drop the foreplay. She will not come willingly, so she will watch the destruction of her people before she is dragged to our queen in bindings.”

Clarke jolted back, eyes wide and heart hammering in her chest. Abby’s proud shoulders fell and Clarke made a decision. She grabbed the shard of glass in her stomach, slipped it out, and lunged quickly, sliding under the guard of the first alpha and burying it in between his ribs. She turned the full force of her pheromones on the other, watching with a twisted kind of pleasure as he dropped to his knees with hardly any ability to reject the call. 

“Your queen has made a mistake, Azgeda scum.”

She drove her knee into his face hard enough to send the bones of his nose into his brain. She stumbled slightly as the wound in her stomach stretched and pulled angrily, but she caught herself on a chair. Clarke looked at her mother.

“Explain. Everything.”

Abby’s wouldn't meet her eyes.

“We are surrounded. Our numbers do not match Azgeda’s and I was trying to save you from seeing--”

Clarke snarled.

“Will you not fight?”

Abby stood and growled.

“Of course we will. But we will also lose.”

Clarke’s heart burned in her chest and her vision glanced red. 

“And you think I would not fight for my people? That I'd want to escape? You think I wouldn't take every opportunity to avenge--”

Her father stood, eyes dark, lacking their normal warmth.

“Use your head, Clarke! It is better for few to live than all to die.”

Clarke never disagreed with her father, but now she glared at him. 

“I would rather die than live as a slave.”

Abby let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Your freedom, along with Octavia and Ravens’, was promised. I assumed you intelligent enough to escape and do what you must to bring down Nia’s tyranny. Now, you may not even live to see that through.”

Clarke shook her head.

“We’ll find another way.”

Jake met Clarke’s bravado with a calm look.

“Their army rests just outside our walls. They have several soldiers within the camp ready to strike. Our options are limited.”

Clarke was unsure how to proceed, her adrenaline firing and flickering through her like gasoline, and her wounds petering away to a simple nuisense. She took several deep breaths, trying to clear her head and think, when a commotion outside reminded her of Raven’s presence. She quickly moved to the door, listening carefully. 

“....don't let me in, I'll plant tiny explosive charges in your beds right under where your stupid cocks hang all limp and sad!”

One of the guards spoke.

“Step away or pay the consequences of disobeying a direct order.”

She heard her beta-friend snarl. 

“I always disobey orders. It's one of my many charms.”

Clarke decided to step in before Raven brought all of Azgeda marching against her sharp tongue. Clarke thumped against the door loudly, drawing their attention, and cutting off the guard’s response. Clarke stepped back around the wall and waited, smirking as the door was slowly opened and a head peeked through. 

“General Gahf?” The door opened wider, the guard’s body moving inside. “Winhal?”

He fully brought himself inside and began walking toward the kitchen, eyes wary and body tense. To her frustration, the second guard remained outside to keep Raven out, so Clarke assessed her current situation. Both guards were betas, making it more difficult to cripple them with her alpha, but she still had her wild-card. She relished the way her fingers warmed and her palm itched as tendrils of flame flickered into life in her right hand. 

She waited until the guard was steps away from the kitchen before swinging out and catching his attention. He spun, his mouth opening, and she smirked as she released a line of fire into his mouth. She didn't give him any chance to recover before she lunged forward and swing her elbow across his chin. His body thudded to the ground. 

Clarke heard the front door open again, and she whirled around, tensed for a fight. She found Raven, eyes suspiciously innocent, with a body at her feet. Clarke grinned.

“I can always count on you, Tinker. Get in here.”

Clarke felt herself yanked back and she snarled even as her mother ripped up the sleeve on her right arm. She grimaced. Along her skin were the symbols of her disobedience. Magic was outlawed within many of the clans, having been the cause for much discourse in past generations. Skaikru was one of the first to ban its practice. 

But Clarke’s first had never been one to blindly follow, and Omela had given Clarke the option to attempt the trial of fire. She'd somehow regained an old scroll with the test, and she'd offered it to Clarke under the guise of a new medicinal herb. 

The pain Clarke had gone through, the tremendous mental fortitude and physical endurance she'd had to attain, it was all worth it for the gift to hold the world’s most destructive element in her hand. 

On the inside of Clarke’s wrist was a complex pattern of thin tattoos that created an abstract image of fire. They glowed slightly in the aftermath of Clarke’s display of power, and she fought back a grin. Abby snarled. 

“What have you done?”

Clarke pulled her arm back, meeting her father’s eyes. Raven, Omela, and her dad were the only ones to know of her gift. She returned her sleeve to its proper place. 

“I bettered myself. We do not have time for reprimands or disappointment. We must get the word out before Azgeda attacks.”

Raven’s eyes widened. 

“Azgeda--”

Clarke held up a hand. 

“There truly is no time to explain. Word must get out.” Clarke looked at her parents. “Did they give word on when they would strike?”

Jake nodded.

“When your party left the city.”

Clarke nodded, thinking quickly. 

“Raven, do you have one of those gadgets you were working on?”

Raven pulled a strange-looking device from her backpack.

“Yep.”

“Who has the other one?”

“Monty.”

Clarke nodded. 

“Alright. He’ll do. Contact Monty, tell him to find Bellamy.”

Raven held up the strange device.

“Monster, come in.” Crackle and then silence. Raven tried again. “Monty-Monsty. You there?”

A sound on the other end and then-

“Monty can't come to the spooky talking device right now, but Sassy Jassy is at your service.”

Raven rolled her eyes. 

“Jasper, this is important. Get to Bellamy as quickly as possible.”

“What--”

“No questions. Just go. And make sure he is alone.”

The wait was tense, Abby, Jake, Clarke, and Raven all waiting in silence as time slid by. It took almost ten minutes before there was contact. 

“Raven, its Bellamy. I’m alone. What's going on?”

Clarke took over.

“Bell, Azgeda has surrounded the city. There are soldiers inside as well. I need you to get the word out. Have people arm themselves for battle, but keep it quiet. Tell everyone to be on the lookout for anyone with ritual scars on their faces.”

Bellamy wasn't always good at following orders, it was something Clarke respected about him, but this time, he simply received and agreed. 

“I will. Are you two safe?”

“We’re good for now, Bell. Get the word out. Alert us to anything you find important.”

“Got it.”

Clarke turned to Raven just as the door flew open. Omela stood with wild eyes and blood-covered arms. As soon as her eyes landed on Clarke, she let out a heavy breath. 

“Foolish girl. You live.”

Clarke nodded sharply even as Abby moved forward to inspect the woman. Omela moved her arms behind her back. 

“It is not my blood, Skaiheda. There were two guards placed a distance from your home to watch. I recognized their scarring. When Raven brought down the guard outside the entrance, I dispatched the lookouts before they could make any noise.”

Clarke nodded gratefully. 

“Prepare for an attack, Omela. Azgeda is on all sides.”

Omela looked down at the seeping wound in Clarke’s stomach.

“You must close that if you plan on being any use in the coming battle.”

Clarke huffed and peeled back her shirt to reveal the inch-long slit about two centimeters deep. Abby stepped forward. 

“Alert the generals, Omela. Bellamy is speaking with the populace. Be quick.”

Omela’s jaw ground slightly at the order, but she nodded and left with one glance back at Clarke. Abby disappeared for a few moments before returning with two jars and a small, wooden box. She quickly cleaned out the cut, much to Clarke’s displeasure. After, she stitched the wound closed and rubbed a salve over it. 

“This will tear when you fight, I am sure. But it is all we can do.”

Clarke nodded and dropped the hem of her shirt back down. 

“We need to prepare.” Despite wanting to take charge, Clarke looked to Abby. “Where do you want me, Skaiheda?”

It was an apology of sorts. Clarke would never stoop to such things, but she didn't want to die without some sort of understanding. Abby gave her a nod. 

“Gear up and join Bellamy in his task.” She turned to Raven. “I know you've got something up your sleeve. It's time to put it to good use.”

Raven gave a mock-salute that Abby huffed at. Her smile quickly dropped as she was about to leave, and she met each of their eyes. 

“If this is the last time I see any of you, thank you. For everything.”

She was out the door before they could respond. Clarke knew it was no time to be sentimental, but she turned to her parents. She clenched her jaw tightly, breathed slowly, and then pulled them in for one embrace. It was quick, and she backed away as soon it was over. 

“Good luck.”

Her father stepped forward and pulled her to his chest. 

“May many enemies fall by your hand, Clarke.”

She breathed in the familiar scent of wood and oil that always surrounded her father from his job as a woodcutter. Somehow she knew it'd be her last chance. 

“And yours, dad.”

Abby met her eyes as she retreated once more toward the door, and Clarke gave her a wry smile.

“What will you do?”

Abby straightened her shoulders.

“Those unable to fight will escape through the tunnels. Then I will fight.”

Clarke swallowed thickly and nodded before walking into the scorching light.

The preparations were already under way. To an unaccustomed eye, it looked like any normal day in a city. But Clarke knew the paths for labor and the oaths for war, and she could read the tension on the faces of her people. They bustled about with their carts and their equipment, but closer inspection would reveal the lack of care for farming tools and carcasses from the hunt. 

She quickly moved toward the armory, watching for any sign of a shadow. As she rounded the corner of a cluster of several shops, she saw the telltale sign of too-sharp movements. With a huff, she swung around another corner and ducked into an alley. It wasn't more than a few seconds before her tail followed, and she lunged forward to bring them to the ground. 

“Jesus, Clarke.”

She sighed, slowly rising from Octavia’s stomach. 

“Fucking hell, O.”

Octavia stood and dramatically wiped away the dirt on her clothes. Clarke could see the lines of weapons hidden under her clothing. It seemed Octavia already heard word. Octavia yanked Clarke into a tight hug. 

“May many enemies fall by your hand, Clarke.”

Clarke closed her eyes and took a deep breath before pulling away meeting her friend’s eyes again.

“And yours.” 

Octavia nodded, clapped her shoulder, and took off in the opposing direction. Clarke was not interrupted again before reaching the armory, and she slipped inside to find many soldiers donning their gear and sheathing their weapons at their sides. Their faces lit up at the sight of their would-be sky commander, and she nodded sharply at them before locating her armor. She picked up the hardened-leather cuirass and slid it over her head. The straps her slotted and tightened quickly before she did the same with her bracers. 

She picked up her bow, strapped it and her sheath of arrows to her back, then carefully picked up her sword. It had been given to her parents as one of many gifts from the Heda when Abby had agreed to the coalition. Her parents had give it to her on her eighteenth birthday. She had practiced with it for the past four years, but never had it drawn blood. Clarke slid it out, looking at the weapon. Their best smith had altered the grip and crossguard for left-hand use, but the blade- with all its folds and inscriptions, had remained untouched. 

She sheathed it, betled the scabbard around her waist, and pulled a large cloak from the wall to wrap around herself. She looked to the soldiers around her, cloaked and prepared to die, and her nerves steeled in her. They would not go out without taking every advantage. 

“Skaikru.”

Her voice wasn't loud, but the tone, the way her alpha wrapped itself around her words, captured the attention of every soldier. She looked around, knowing that she was about to disobey her mother for the last time. 

“We will die today.”

A discontent, a wave of fear, deeper into the air of the room to be sucked in and spat back out thicker by each man and woman present. She shook her head. 

“Do not let it discourage you. It is an honor to die protecting the ones you love. Skaiheda has a plan to get the old and young out of the city. Our sacrifice with save the lives of the Skaikru’s future. We will take these Azgeda dogs to the ground, and their blood will mark our lands forever. The clans will speak of your courage and your ferocity. Azgeda will fear the living Skaikru, and the dead.”

She watched the faces of her people as she spoke, almost eighty gathered in her midst. They shifted from afraid to grim to determined. To proud. The pheromones in the room moved from a cloying stench to a powerful, heady scent of violence. She nodded.

“Should we wait, or bring this fight to their lines? We must strike hard and fast, when they do not suspect. Who is going to follow me?”

In knowledge of the need for discretion, every soldier in the room crossed their right arm over their chest and their left arm folded up to the shoulder. Clarke grinned.

“Make your way through the city in groups, keep your weapons hidden, and enlist the help of any soldier you find. We will enter the tunnels and attack the Azgeda from behind. Are you prepared to die?”

The same salute followed her query, and she grinned. 

“So am I. May many enemies fall by your hand, Skaikru.”

The response was quiet, but loud enough for her ears. 

“And yours, Skaiheda.”

She took a deep breath, tied her cloak around her shoulders, and made for the exit. Her soldiers were smart, well-trained, and above all, frightfully determined. They would meet her at the tunnels. 

She quickly exited the armory, eyes flitting about for Raven or Bellamy. She saw her friends curly mop of hair as he moved between homes near the east wall. She made her way toward him, catching his attention as she closed in. His eyes were serious, his jaw clenched. 

“Clarke.”

She looked around. 

“I am taking soldiers for an attack on the Azgeda flank. Spread the word that archers should be prepared to line the walls at the first horn of combat. I'm sure they will still vie to take the city with portion of their army.”

Bellamy grabbed her arm, his alpha pheromones flickering.

“You don't know where they sit in wait! You cannot go in blind.”

Clarke shook him off, easily overcoming his attempt at dominance. 

“It is better than waiting for them to batter us. And their location must be just beyond the line of the forest by our walls. They are too large for another position. Now do as I say, Bellamy.”

She didn't wait for his response before turning away. There was no more time for goodbyes. 

She quickly walked through the paths of her city, knowing it would be the last time her feet sounded on the worn dirt. She saw her people, grim determination and hearts on fire as they moved about with purpose. After a roundabout journey, she arrived at the tunnels. Young and old were slowly and quietly moving into the tunnels, and Clarke ruffled the head of a petrified looking boy as she passed. 

“Be strong, young one. You will carry on.”

She moved toward the first open chamber, noting soldiers already gathered or pooling from varied tunnels. They numbered four hundred and sixty. Clarke held them for a few more marks of time, allowing for forty more to join, before she captured their attention with a wave of her pheromones. 

“We move now, Skaikru. Keep silent.”

She started toward the opposing tunnels as the young, but a hand latched onto her own. Omela narrowed her eyes.

“You thought to fight without me, mutt?”

Clarke grinned darkly. 

“Never. Make sure to keep up.”

Omela smirked. 

“I am sure I should be saying that to you.”

Clarke chuckled and took strength in the presence of her first, her calm scent strengthening her in the mass of fear and anger surrounding them. She led the way through the tunnels that she knew by heart, listening to the quiet trod of her soldiers behind her. Their cloaks were dyed with a dark green to mask them within the woods, and they had the advantage of knowledge of the surrounding grounds. 

The tunnels were dark and long, but Clarke lead them through twists and turns up to the hidden exit. It placed them at the ridge of a cliff overlooking the valley. A perfect spot for lookouts, but not big enough for an entire army. She slowed to a stop and motioned for everyone to stay put before carefully drawing her dagger and slicing the overgrown moss and roots that covered their exit. 

Light flooded the tunnel, and Clarke blinked away the brightness until her eyes were accustomed. She tapped Omela as a signal, asking her to follow, and they quietly climbed into the daylight. A large growth surrounded them, planted for the purpose of stealth, and Clarke settled in it to look around. 

It took a few moments to spot the Azgeda lookouts that were settled in the trees above and the brush by the cliff. There were six of them. Clarke drew her bow and pointed at the trees. The lookouts there had an easy view of the ones on the ground and had to be taken out first. The key would be speed. They had to take down all four in the sky before they hit the ground, and they had to be moving toward the other two before they sounded the alarm. Clarke leaned back into the tunnel and pointed to two soldiers she recognized. Soldiers she trained with. Soldiers she trusted.

They moved silently to her side. She motioned to the four Azgeda in the trees, then the two on the ground, signaling for them to move as soon as her first arrow left her bow. They nodded obediently and pulled their daggers. Clarke returned her attention to Omela, signaling that she would get the two on the left, her the two on the right. Omela agreed. 

Clarke notched one arrow, positioning another in her drawing hand for quick reload, and then drew back. Omela did the same. At the nod of Clarke’s head, both loosed their arrows at once, and reloaded within a second to fire the second. Four bodies fell towards the ground, trees scraping against cloth and alerting the two on the ground. It was already too late for them, and Clarke watched with pride as her soldiers’ daggers found the throats of the Azgeda lookouts. 

She moved forward towards the cliff’s edge, finding Azgeda’s encampment exactly where she expected. The size was staggering, maybe six thousand strong, and Clarke felt her blood turn icy in her veins. She kept an unbreakable lock on her pheromones, as did Omela, but the two soldiers with them failed in such a task. Their fear wafted off of them in waves. 

Omela, never one to be gentle, surprised Clarke with the soft, calming beta pheromones she released around them. Clarke gave her a grateful look as the two with them slowly came down from their terror. 

Clarke rested a hand on one’s shoulder.

“Raffe, have ten soldiers spread out and clear our way down the hill.”

She nodded and turned to move, but Clarke grabbed her leather cuirass, meeting her eyes.

“You are in charge. One mistake and our mission fails. Do you understand? Lead with confidence, soldier. There is no room for fear.”

Raffe saluted and moved past with renewed determination. Clarke was proud of the fact that she heard nothing from her soldiers as they moved out of the tunnels and down the incline. Omela caught her attention. 

“What is your plan?”

Clarke glanced at the bodies of the scouts. 

“Something stupid.”

Omela smirked.

“I would expect nothing less from you.”

Clarke bent down and removed the Azgeda cloak from the downed enemy’s shoulders, then searches the bag of the soldier for the war paint that covers his face. Omela huffed and grimaced at the idea of wearing Azgeda colors, but she followed suit. Clarke turned to the remaining soldier. 

“Thom, alert the soldiers in the tunnel that we are donning Azgeda gear. Their will be a strip of black paint on our blue cloaks to separate us.”

Thom nodded and turned back to the tunnels without argument. Clarke sat with Omela for over an hour, watching the movements of the camp below. It was unprepared, that is obvious. They did not fear the small numbers of the Skaikru. It was a mistake they'd pay for in blood. She noted that many soldiers left and returned to the camp with wood or deer for the others. It would be her way in. 

The sun was just beginning it's descent in the sky when Raffe returned, blood-covered but followed by ten soldiers. Clarke nodded in recognition of their feat.

“How many?”

Raffe met her eyes with a new fire that invigorated Clarke. 

“Forty.”

Clarke gave her a sharp smile.

“Good. Rest for now.” Clarke looked at Thom, who had returned soon after she sent him away to wait for further orders. “Take ten soldiers and gather the cloaks and pigments of the Azgeda. Do not be complacent.”

Thom nodded and left. Clarke explained her plan to the gathered eleven, and she handed them each a pouch of the pigment. 

“Begin marking your faces if you are agreeable with this plan.”

The eleven quickly began to mimic the markings of the Azgeda. Clarke looked at Omela. 

“Bring the soldiers from the tunnel. Keep them quiet.”

A deep voice sounded from the forest.

“Skaikru.”

Clarke spun and sprinted, then lunged without hesitation, her body slamming into the beta who spoke. He was large, but she brought him to the ground, pressing a knife to his throat. Thoughts raced through her mind, questioning how he moved past her men, why he announced himself. His strange behaviour was all that saved him from instantaneous death. It took a second more to notice that he didn't wear the colors or Azgeda, but the clothing of the Trikru. 

Clarke’s heart soared with hope.

“Who are you?”

The man’s eyes were kinder than she expected, and he spoke quietly. 

“I was sent by Heda.”

Clarke sucked in a heavy breath. If the power of the Trikru, the coalition, were to join them, Skaikru might be saved in whole. He seemed to see her jubilation and shook his head sadly. 

“We are a scouting party. We haven't heard word from the main force. I'm sorry.”

Clarke bit back a curse and pushed off of him to her feet. 

“How long have you been away from your Heda?”

The man stood, his broad shoulders straight. Clarke might have found him attractive in another situation, but now, all she saw was an able-bodied fighter. 

“It's been a week. Our scouts heard of a massive force heading toward Skaikru territory, and Heda made the call to gather the armies of the coalition.”

Clarke nodded, teeth clenched tightly to hold back the bitter disappointment coursing through her. 

“How many in your party?”

“Twenty.”

It would hardly make a difference, but anything helped. 

“Fine. Will you fight with us? I do not expect it, despite our alliance. You will die.”

The man stood taller, eyes hardening. 

“My warriors are prepared to die for the Heda’s coalition. I am Lincoln.”

Clarke smiled at him despite the gaping pit eating through her stomach. 

“It'll be good to die at your side, Lincoln. I'm Clarke.”

Lincoln nodded, and Clarke continued.

“Gather your warriors. I will detail out my plan, and you can share your input.”

Lincoln took the order, deferring to Clarke’s authority without argument. He returned ten minutes later with his warriors. They looked brutal, their bodies prepared for war. Clarke nodded at them then looked to Lincoln. 

“We’ll discuss how you avoided my scouts later. For now, here’s the plan.”

~<€~<€~<€~<€

Clarke used the fading light to paint the faces of forty warriors. She allowed Lincoln to paint three of his own and himself, and Omela and Clarke donned the remaining Azgeda cloaks. She waited to apply the facepaint until after she addressed her soldiers. She spoke for the forty five first, the disguised sitting before her and waiting for her word.

“I'm sure you can see the outcome of this battle, warriors. This isn't a battle for survival, it is a battle for time. Time for our families to escape and carry on the legacy of the Skaikru. We also fight to bathe the ground with Azgeda blood. Their cries will be our victory song, and our hearts shall beat for everyone we fight for. The night is rising, and we will enter the enemy camp with stacks of wood in our arms. Scattered. Avoid any contact with anyone if possible. Find a general and on my call, kill them. If not a general, dismantle a trebuchet. This must be done very quickly and without error. After your kill, find cover from the arrows of your fellow Skaikru that fall from this ridge. We are few, but we fight for something more important than our lives.”

She felt the pheromones of her warriors flare in rage and confidence, all of them saluting her together. The Trikru warriors joining them dropped their heads in agreement. 

Clarke nodded and moved on, using Omela’s help to lay out the plan for the rest. The Skaikru pulled their bows from their backs and began moving into position silently, faces grim. She knew they were relieved to be remaining on the ridge for the early part of the battle even if they would have willingly joined the first party. 

After spreading the word, Clarke sat still as Lincoln painted two lines under each eye in blue paint. She checked the black stripes of dirt on their cloaks, inconspicuous enough that they wouldn't be immediately called out. Lincoln sent two of his scouting party back down into the woods to lay in wait for the commander’s army should they arrive in time. 

Clarke felt the inevitable death awaiting her settle on her bones, basked in the reality that she would be dying for her people, for the young to carry on. It was an honor and privilege, and she would hold her head high until her final blow. 

The forty-six of them slowly made their way down the hill, keeping their eyes peeled for the enemy. They gathered large branches and Clarke watched, impressed, as the Trikru scouts fired quick shots and brought several small game kills back to the group. By the time they reached the bottom of the hill, Clarke was solid in her disguise, the hood of the cloak up and her arms filled with firewood. Lincoln held a large rock for the trebuchet, and the other soldiers followed suit. 

Clarke was the first to make her move, knowing her presence would bring courage to the rest. She walked a little loudly through the forest, not encountering anyone until she reached the edge of the forest. The patrol there did nothing to stop her, and she made her way toward the center of the camp. She forced her body to remain relaxed, her face to remain clear. She reached a small pile of wood and dropped her armful. There were soldiers there bundling the woods together and covering them with a liquid that Clarke assumed was oil. She wouldn't allow the Azgeda to burn her city in such a way. 

She nodded at the two and moved on, searching for the easily-recognizable generals within the army. They wanted people to know their rank, to fear them. It would facilitate their deaths now. She caught sight of a tall man with skulls as pauldrons on his shoulders and settled herself on the ground behind them, using a leftover stone to begin sharpening her dagger. 

The agreed upon amount of time was thirty minutes, and Clarke settled in to wait the tensest minutes of her life, hoping beyond hope that this would go off without a hitch. Hoping that the army of the coalition would somehow save them. She took a deep breath, heart pounding in her chest, and she waited. 

The time passed slowly, and she counted her warriors as they exited the trees and found their own position, many moving out of sight to various parts of the camp. Clarke waited thirty-five minutes, then stood, turned toward the general, and walked forward, her right hand raising. Flames kicked out of her fingers, igniting a large pile of oil-coated wood even as she drove her blade into the back of his neck and into his brain stem. There's an outcry at the fire, and Clarke quickly pulls the general’s body in front of her before it can fall to the ground. She shields herself from the ridge. 

Several beats pass where all she could hear was her heart thudding in her ears, and then there was screaming. She watched as bodies began falling, her warriors on the ridge firing two at a time into the massive Azgeda army. Clarke kept the body in front of her, feeling as projectiles pelted his body and glancing to her sides to see hundreds of others falling. 

She waited through three volleys as their enemies fell, and then there was nothing. The Azgeda warriors began to gather, only to find that many of their leaders were dead. A group of soldiers stood before Clarke as she shoved the general away from her. She whipped off the cloak, wiped the blood from her hand onto her face as planned to remove the enemy marks. The general thudded to the ground at her feet, and her grin was feral as she stared at the warriors around her, unleashing her pheromones with a vengeance. She grinned as several fell to their knees before her, and others stumbled. With a war cry, echoed by those in the enemy camp and the soldiers moving in from the woods, Clarke attacked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Firstly, I just wanted to thank people for being supportive in the comments with that troll. 
> 
> For future reference, if anyone experiences this on their stories or if they see it in the comments on another, there's a 'report abuse' element of AO3. Harrassment like that violates section G. of the terms of service, so you have a justified reason for reporting them. I left their comments up as well so that the Admin could see them. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is still basically unedited haha.

She watched from edge of the clearing as Azgeda soldiers entered the camp with resources, and others left empty-handed. It was a weak system, established in what Azgeda assumed would be an easy defeat. It was sad that they were correct, though reinforcements were on the way. 

As Azgeda soldiers entered the camp from the forest, she began to notice a strange mark on some, a line of dark down the blue capes. The light was low, but just enough remained.

“Anya, do you see?”

Her general moved forward. 

“The markings?”

“Yes. Follow the next. See where they go.”

Anya nodded. 

“Sha, Heda.”

Lexa did the same, her eyes locking onto a woman with strong arms, black hair, dark markings on her face, and a thin line down her cape. She carried a stone, presumably for trebuchet fire, and trudged one hundred yards into the camp before dropping it on a pile of other ammunition. She moved on, head forward, but she stopped just to the right of a woman with a bone-helmet pulled back on her head. The marked soldier settled in among a group of other Azgeda. Lexa turned to Anya. 

“Where?”

Anya pointed to the far right of the camp. 

“He moved to a stop just next to that trebuchet.” 

Lexa nodded, saying nothing as she returned her gaze to the treeline to wait for another. One was quick to appear, and Lexa tensed as she recognized him. Anya shifted beside her.

“Lincoln.”

Snapping brush to their left captured Lexa’s attention, and she partially drew her weapon until she recognized two of her scouts. 

“Eli, report.”

“Heda, the Skaikru heir has infiltrated the Azgeda camp. Lincoln and the others have joined the attack.”

Lexa watched as more marked warriors entered the encampment. 

“They will die.”

Silence met her statement, and Lexa looked over at her scout. He was watching below with a respectful glint in his eyes.

“They all know.”

Anya frowned. 

“And they agreed to it?”

Eli nodded.

“The future Skaiheda has a power in her voice, Heda. She is very strong. She was the first into the Azgeda camp.”

Anya glanced over at Lexa to gauge her reaction. She revealed nothing, instead, further inquiring.

“What is this plan?”

Eli moved closer, then pointed up at the ridge overlooking the massive clearing. 

“Four hundred and fifty archers are stationed along there, prepared to fire three volleys on a ten-count after the signal is given. Those within the camp are situated by powerful pieces, aiming to destroy the war machines or cripple the leadership.”

Gustus rode up behind them and came to a stop to her right.

“Heda, the rest of the army will arrive soon.”

Lexa stared down at the slow infiltration of Skaikru. 

“How soon?”

Gustus’ gruff voice responded heavily. 

“Nightfall.”

Anya spoke before Lexa could state the obvious. 

“It will be too late.”

Eli stepped toward them.

“Heda, I would like to fight with them.”

Lexa’s cool gaze flitted over to her warrior. 

“And die?”

Eli nodded sharply.

“Sha. Skaiheda said they fight for time, not for their lives. Their young and old are escaping.”

Something stirred in Lexa’s chest, the beginning flicker of adrenaline and battle-rage. She thought of their odds. Five hundred against six thousand would be a massacre. Lexa had a thousand Calvary with her, ready to ride on command. But the bulk of the army would not arrive until everyone of the five hundred were dead; including a master strategist that she very much wanted to speak with. She had a decision to make, and to do her duty, she had to wait and discover the odds of success. She could not afford to lose a thousand men or her strongest generals. She turned to Eli.

“You may fight with them.”

He bowed.

“Mochof, Heda.”

Eli began his descent through the trees, and Lexa grew curious at what kind of leader could convince a new warrior to fight for their cause. It was a feat to be applauded. Lexa returned her gaze to the encampment below, eyes searching in vain for some sign of the heir to Skaikru.

A blast of fire billowed from the middle of the camp, and she turned her attention to it, seeing a huge fire light up the sky. A distance away, a flash of blonde and black-striped blue caught her attention, and she saw a cloaked figure step into the back of a general. 

Moments later, the figure swung around with the body shielding her, and the twang of hundreds of bows snapping prefaced the volley of arrows that arched across the darkening night and landed among the Azgeda. The arrows seemed doubled, and Lexa kept the impressed look from her features as they pounded the enemy to the ground amidst screaming. Two more volleys flew from the ridge, then a moment of confusion passed, and Lexa found her attention returning to the blonde figure. 

The woman pushed the large body aside, and she stood tall in front of a horde of clustered soldiers, ripping off the Azgeda cloak and covering her face in blood. Her stomach twisted with something strange as soldiers dropped before her. The woman drew her sword and flew forward, slicing through several soldiers with ease before they could rise. Around the camp, other fights broke out, and pained cries continued to fill the night as people fell to blades. 

The archers from the ridge emitted a warcry and moved at a sprint toward the camp, swords and spears raised to bring death and pain. Something inside Lexa shifted, and her shoulders straightened at the feeling of...something. She turned to Anya. 

“Ready the calvary.”

Gustus growled in surprise. 

“Heda, the rest of--”

Lexa snarled, asserting her dominance. 

“The rest of our army will arrive too late. Assemble the calvary, or prepare to be branded as a coward, Gustus.”

Anya moved her horse closer.

“Are you sure, Lexa?”

It was spoken quietly, for no other ears. Lexa continued to watch the warrior in the middle, chest alight.

“Yes.”

She heard the hoof stomps and the mutterings of warrior and horse preparing to kill. The slide of metal sounded as her soldiers unsheathed their weapons. Lexa drew her own, body preparing to inflict and receive pain. 

“Ready?!”

The echoing calls of a thousand men and women thundered across the whole of the clearing, and many warring below jolted their direction. She rode forward into sight, her banner carried behind her. The Trikru warcry was meant to instill terror, and she watched as many Azgeda recognized it, recognized her banner, then saw the line of calvary appear behind her. Her eyes returned once more to the blonde, and she saw her battling with increased vigor. 

As her warriors howled and growled, her chest pounded and her nostril burned. She was ready. Raising her sword, Lexa tapped her heels into her horse’s flanks, starting the approach. The thunder of hoofbeats sounded behind her, and she kept the grin from her face as she rode on toward the section of the army turning to receive them. 

The first body her sword found home within screamed violently, and she wrenched her weapon away with a squelch and a snap. Her calvary pounded into the valley, razing through waves of enemies with the element of surprise and the advantage of height and speed. They began to slow as they reached the midpoint of the camp, and Lexa continued to mow down soldiers, only leaping from her horse when it took a spear to the front shoulder. She rolled to her feet swinging, finding targets to strike down. Her omega felt strange and ready for something she wasn't quite prepared for, but she ignored it in face of the battle.

Anya and Gustus flanked her, watching her back and slaughtering Azgeda warriors with ease. The tide was in their favor for the better part of the setting sun, but as Azgeda regrouped and utilized their greater force, the fight became much more difficult. She found no time for rest, her sword moving continuously, blood coating her coat and flesh. Every soldier she killed was instantly replaced by another. She received a slice to her shoulder as she blocked one soldier, another taking advantage. Gustus quickly cut them down. 

She felt the ache of her body begging to release the power she held within her, her hands faltering from hot to cool with increasing speed. Her omega begged to be unleashed, and she restrained it. Magic was still feared, even by her own people, and using it could have negative effect on her own warriors as well as Azgeda’s. 

Her limbs began to weigh heavier and her strikes doubled in their difficulty, but she pressed forward. 

It was as they battled further into the Azgeda line that Lexa finally saw her, the heir, the leader, the strategist for this death-welcoming mission. The woman was fast, her strikes wild but leaving no opening for attack. Lexa could feel the weight of the woman’s Alpha from the great space separating them still, and her omega snarled and bristled violently as the woman was struck in the shoulder with a short dagger. Lexa lurched toward her, striking down those in her path, but the alpha ignored the injury, ducking low and sliding to the side to gain her bearings. 

She dispatched the attacker behind her, spun to the front, and returned to her battle. It was a feat of sheer will, of unyielding perseverance, of a warrior who fought for something. Lexa continued her direction, her omega pulling her forward, vicious and angry. Her sword bit through bones and flesh, staining the dirt with Azgeda blood. As she reached the spot where the woman battled, she came up behind her opponent and split him through the chest. The Skaikru heir’s eyes moved to hers, and Lexa would never forget the way her blood-covered lips parted, the shine of her teeth moving into a fierce grin. 

Lexa’s omega roared heavy in her chest, and she ripped her eyes away from the blonde and continued to fight. Despite her warriors superior strength, she was growing weary. The Skaikru soldier was soaked in blood, and Lexa knew much of it was her own from the marks that cut across her arms and hands. Still, they fought. They prevailed. The woman formed rank with Lexa, Anya, and Gustus, and the speed at which they dispatched their enemies doubled. There was no weak link. 

Trikru and Skaikru alike found courage and strength in their unbreaking charge, and the Azgeda recognized them as the largest threat. More rushed at them, battering against their formation with everything they had. It made the battle increasingly difficult for them, but allowed their warriors to strike at those distracted. 

A horn sounded in the distance, and Lexa glanced toward where she knew Skaikru lands lay to see the black banner covered in a bright star. To her left, the heir laughed tiredly, her sword impaling the stomach of an Azgeda man. 

With the addition of the remaining Skaikru force, one thousand strong, the Azgeda began losing heart. Some tried to run, easily targeted and eliminated by Lexa’s warriors. The fighting slowed, the ache in Lexa’s body become more and more apparent, and she noted the sluggish movements of the blonde alpha beside her. But they were not finished. When a lull settled around them, Lexa grabbed her cuirass and pulled her close. 

“You will finish this, alpha. You will survive.”

The woman’s blue eyes flashed dangerously at the order, her chest heaving in and out. 

“Yes, Commander.”

The way she said it, the harsh growl of her voice and the way it dripped with poorly concealed desire for disobedience riled Lexa up, the hairs in her neck sticking up and her omega snarling. She shoved the woman back, returning to the battle in time to catch a spear with her sword and fling it away. The blonde fought with renewed vigor, her arms regaining speed and strength with her strikes.

It was over soon enough, the remaining enemies dropping their weapons and falling to their knees in surrender. Lexa didn't relax, ordering Skaikru and Trikru alike to incapacitate all Azgeda warriors still living. 

As she surveyed the battlefield, her body drained, a soldier screamed loudly across the clearing.

“Heda, arrow north!”

She turned in time to see an arrow loosed in her direction, the Azgeda soldier rising from his knees with dark determination in his face. A body slid between her and the impact, and her omega howled loudly as the arrow penetrated the blonde alpha’s chest, lodging itself deeply. The heir cried out, the sound ending in a snarl as she stumbled forward and raised her right hand. Lexa watched in awe as flames flared to life there, launching out and consuming the would-be assassin in fire. A sound of shock echoed throughout the battlefield, but Lexa simply watched, unjustly horrified, as the Alpha collapsed on the dirt. 

Lexa bit back a snarl and looked to Gustus. 

“Deliver her to the healers.” When he hesitated, she turned on him, her voice thick with rage. “Now, Gustus!”

He nodded sharply and bent over, gently picking the alpha up from the ground and carrying her away. 

Lexa tried not to think about it, tried not to dwell so much on this alpha she knew nothing about beyond what others said and what she saw on the field of battle. But her omega was drawn, delighted even, in her presence. And now, it whined and twisted inside her, begging her to follow. She ignored it, as was her duty, and continued giving orders and dismantling the Azgeda army. 

The rest of the coalition arrived as Gustus had said, led by Indra. The woman surveyed the surrounding area, thousands dead, with a severe eye. The ten thousand soldiers with her took up the brunt of the work, healing, dispatching, and tallying the dead. Indra pursed her lips. 

“I am...surprised at this outcome, Heda.”

Lexa walked through the soldiers, searching for a Skaikru leader that could give her answers.

“It is done. Speak no more on it.”

Indra nodded sharply, though Lexa knew it would be brought forward again. 

Anya walked at her other side, eyes flickering around, watching for any possible threat. 

“Lexa--”

Lexa couldn't stop the snarl of frustration from escaping, and she clenched her jaw so tightly she thought it might snap. Anya huffed. 

“She will live.”

Lexa’s face remained stoic, but her omega rattled in her chest like a hopeful pup. She looked away. 

“Her wound is easily fatal.”

Anya chuckled, and Lexa fought the urge to strike her. Her First smartly held up her hand.

“She will live, Heda. She was ordered to by her commander.”

Lexa felt ashamed at her weakness, that Anya had heard or seen her say that. There was nothing she could do now, but she wrapped tight bands around her omega despite its protests and pressed on.

It took longer than she liked to find a Skaikru general, but the woman deferred to her leadership and quickly guided them to a makeshift hut in which many wounded were laying on cots. A woman with dirt, blood, and tear-stained cheeks worked carefully with the injured. 

“Skaiheda.”

The woman she knew as Abby looked up, meeting her eyes with dead ones. 

“Heda.”

Lexa studied her silently, then tilted her head to the side. 

“We must speak. My healers will take over here.”

Abby nodded numbly and dropped the rag she was holding. She walked to Lexa, Anya, and Indra with a limp in her step. 

“What can I do, Heda?”

Lexa nodded toward the city. 

“Was your daughter’s plan successful? Did you evacuate the city?”

Abby’s throat wobbled, and she swallowed harshly before looking down. 

“Azgeda… they'd posted a battalion of soldiers on the opposing side… my mate was leading the young--”

Abby’s voice cut off, and Lexa watched her struggle with her words before continuing.

“We had soldiers flanking them, but it wasn't enough. The first to exit, many the young, were struck down.”

Lexa’s rage burned bright once more in her chest. 

“How many?”

Abby’s back straightened. 

“Forty pups, sixty old, two hundred warriors.”

Lexa nodded, her status forcing her to remain silent on the depth of her sympathy.

“Your loss was great today, Abby of the Skaikru. What happened after the attack?”

Abby looked vacantly toward the walls. 

“The warriors on the walls struck them down, and in a fit of sorrow and rage, the remaining soldiers stormed out to kill as many as possible. We did not know of your arrival until we saw the banner.” Abby paused, eyes flickering around with a bit of hope. “Have you… did you find Clarke? Or… her body?”

Lexa’s omega tried to break the chains she pulled around it. She shook her head.

“I have not. My men will search.”

Abby nodded, her eyes falling to the dullness from before. 

“I will continue to heal the wounded. Your army is free to our supplies and food.”

Lexa nodded. 

“Mochof, Abby.”

Lexa watched the woman walk away, and Anya moved closer. 

“Why did you lie?”

Lexa frowned. 

“Because her daughter will survive or she will not. I will not be the reason she has fruitless hope.”

The words tasted bitter on her tongue, and she quickly moved into the next task. 

“Indra, take those who arrived with you to the city to prepare a meal for the army. Something filling. The nearest clans shall send food. We will stay here for a week, and shall hold a council in two days time to discuss what happens next.”

Indra nodded.

“Sha, Heda.”

Lexa continued walking, grabbing a general of Delfikru. 

“Gather the rested to begin building tents. I want them erected before morning.”

“Sha, heda.”

Lexa stormed forward, giving orders and making sure that every aspect was taken care of for the coalition army and Skaikru. By the time the sun rose, over five thousand tents had been erected within the clearing. 

Lexa waited until every possible task had been completed before going to the medical tent that Nyko was working out of. 

In the middle, chest wrapped tightly in bandages, was the blonde alpha. Clarke. She liked the name. Nyko, busy working on another soldier, looked up at her.

“Sha, Heda?”

Lexa nodded toward the alpha in question, and Nyko frowned.

“I am unsure whether she will survive. He paused, then, “I heard she saved your life.”

Lexa stared at the girl, her omega pawing at the restraints she placed upon it. 

“She did.” Lexa turned away, but before leaving, spoke. “If you find that she will live, have her brought to my tent. I do not care about the hour.”

She left before he could respond, and she knew he would speak of it to nobody. 

Lexa reached her tent at early dawn, her eyes weighing heavy and her limbs stiff. She was covered in sweat and blood, her injuries cleaned and closed with a needle. She glanced around, seeing the war table already set up. She passed through a heavy leather flap into her room and found a steaming pail of water waiting for her, and a bed of furs prepared. Without hesitation, Lexa unclipped her pauldron and let it hit the floor. Her boots went next, followed by her clothing. 

The next hour she spent dirtying rags with the sweat, blood, and filth on her body. She rubbed her skin raw, having no mercy on the deep bruising or sore muscles. She attempted to keep her mind from the alpha who saved her, but she continued to fail. The more she failed, the harder she scrubbed until her nails were clean and her face stung. She finally slung her last rag to the ground, letting out a quiet snarl and yanking on a long shirt before dropping onto her cot and into a heavy sleep. 

~<€~<€~<€~<€

The next two days passed quickly, and the prisoners gathered were guarded day and night as clans sent resources and their leaders arrived. On the second day, near nightfall, Lexa called the leaders and their generals into her tent. Sitting around around the large table, Lexa met Abby’s eyes. 

“Skaikru suffered a great loss, and Azgeda has declared war upon the coalition we have worked so hard for. It is time for them to find new leadership. Or death.”

A chorus of agreement sounded in the room, but the Sankheda protested. 

“Will that not simply create a crisis? We have crippled their army. They would be foolish not to join us now.”

Abby bristled but remained silent as she waited for Lexa’s input. 

“Nia is as deceitful as she is powerful, she will never join this coalition without plans to overcome it.”

The Sankheda frowned, his alpha pheromones seeping across the table. She fought back a snarl. 

“You claim this from one attack? Or because of your own personal vendetta?”

The hush that fell over the room was terrifying, and she saw the movement of her generals in the man’s direction. Lexa held up a hand to stop them. She met the man’s eyes and spoke calmly. 

“Do you wish to challenge me, Ked?”

The alpha’s face blanched, and he quickly shook his head.

“Of course not, Heda. I am simply suggest--”

Lexa interrupted.

“I am aware of what you are suggesting. Unless you wish to lose your tongue, keep it silent.” Lexa turned to the rest. “I suggest that the campaign against Azgeda begin now. All in support of this?”

Every hand, even Ked’s, raised in the air. Lexa nodded sternly. 

“Good. Let us begin our planning. We have four days before we move out.”

~<€~<€~<€~<€

It was in the dead of that night that Lexa heard the sound of movement beside her tent. Nyko’s voice sounded outside.

“Heda, the alpha you asked of; she will live.”

Lexa’s eyes opened, her sleep falling away. She stood and covered herself in a dark cloak before pushing the flap aside. Her omega danced and prowleded excitedly before she got it under wraps, and her mood quickly soured at her inability to control herself. Nyko stood with a stretcher between him and another soldier. Lexa pointed to her private space. 

“Lay her on the bed.” She waited as they did so, only speaking when they returned to her side. She looked to the assistant. “Go to the Skaiheda, bring her here.”

He nodded and disappeared from the tent. Nyko held out a pouch. 

“I will return to apply this tomorrow. But if she wakes, use it to dull the pain.”

Lexa was glad at his lack of questions, and she took the pouch from his hand. Nyko nodded once and exited the tent. Lexa stared at the flap of the tent separating her from the blonde alpha. She forced herself to enter the room, pull on her leather pants, and strap on her sword. She donned her armor, applied her war paint with harsh strokes, and did everything in her power to keep her eyes off of the alpha. She then waited by the war table until a frantic Abby entered the tent. 

“Where is she?!”

Lexa did not speak, but she silently led the mother to her daughter. Abby moved to hover over her, eyes alive more so than Lexa had seen the past days. She watched for a moment more, then quietly left the room to give the Skaiheda privacy. 

Abby returned to the war section some time later, and she took a seat beside Lexa. Lexa passed her a cup of a soothing herb mixed with water. 

“She saved my life.”

Abby started, her eyes widening. 

“She… you said-”

Lexa nodded.

“I know. But I wasn't going to bring you false hope.”

Abby’s eyes flashed.

“That wasn't your right.”

Lexa fought back a growl even as Abby looked regretful. Instead of denying it, Lexa nodded.

“You are probably correct. However, she will live.”

Abby took a deep breath, her eyes a mixture of joy and complete devastation, and Lexa spoke once more.

“She stepped in front of an arrow meant for me. She killed the would-be assassin. With fire.”

Abby tensed. 

“Heda, do not punish her… she will suffer quite enough when she wakes.”

Lexa slowly began unwrapping her bindings from her arms, revealing the map of symbols that lined the insides. 

“On the contrary, Abby. I am… intrigued. How did she learn such a skill?”

Abby’s hands tightened around her mug. 

“Omela. Her First. She has never been one to follow rules well. Her and Clarke got on well. Too well, I think.”

Something sour spread in Lexa’s mouth at the strange twist in the pit of her stomach. She ignored it. 

“I would like to see this Omela. Will you have her sent to me?”

Abby looked at the liquid in her mug. 

“She- I do not believe she will survive her wounds, Heda. Her mate is with her now.”

“I understand.” Lexa stood, prompting Abby to follow. Lexa nodded toward where Clarke rested. “Remain as long as you wish. I must see to my warriors tonight.”

Abby gave her a grateful look. 

“Mochof, Heda.”

Lexa nodded and made her way from her tent. 

She spent the night speaking to her warriors who fought and lived. The calvary remained eight hundred strong. She found Lincoln recovering in the medical tent and spoke with him at length about what he experienced with the Skaikru heir. His attention to detail was most enlightening. 

“She never once tried to convince her warriors to fight for their lives. Instead, she told them to prepare for death.”

Lexa took in the information.

“And they were encouraged by such words?”

Lincoln nodded carefully, avoiding aggravating his head wound.

“Sha, Heda. They found hope in them, in giving the ones they loved more time.”

Lexa looked toward the Skaikru city. A city that mourned. 

“It seems to have been in vain.”

Lincoln clenched his jaw.

“I heard of what happened. Azgeda must burn.”

Lexa stood, face hard.

“They will.”

She exited the tent, her strides taking her toward Skaikru. Anya fell into step at her right.

“An Azgeda prisoner wants to speak with you. Apparently he's been shouting about it for two hours. He was found sitting in the woods a long distance out. He didn't fight.”

Lexa nodded and changed direction, making her way toward the Azgeda holding site. There were two guards standing on either side of a kneeling prisoner. The man’s head was down, but it rose on her approach. She just avoided faltering at his face. 

“Roan.”

The confident grin that adorned his face much too often flashed on his lips.

“Hello, Heda.”

Lexa glanced toward the curious spectators. 

“Take him someplace where we cannot be heard.”

Roan rolled his eyes and sighed as the warriors lifted him to his feet and dragged him away. Lexa watched him go before turning to Anya.

“Find out what the son of Nia is doing on an eradication mission. If it's important, we’ll bring him before the clan leaders.”

Anya nodded, still watching the prince as he was taken away.

“I'm going to send our scouts out further. I do not trust this.”

“Double the scouts. We must be prepared for anything.”

Anya nodded and started after Roan with purpose. Lexa took a deep breath, eyes surveying the encampment with a weight slowly becoming heavier on her shoulders. The coalition was supposed to stop the fighting, not start a war. 

She made her way through the camp, warpaint masking her discontent. Her sword clanged at her side, and her guards kept in step behind her. She reached her tent around the same time as the sun began to rise, and she heard Abby moving around inside. Making sure to alert the woman to her presence, Lexa walked with unmasked steps. 

She pushed through the flap into her room, only to instantly feel the steel of a blade on her throat. Lexa’s first instinct was to counter, her senses quickly assessing the situation. But she smelled the pheromones, the cloying scent of a furious terrified alpha that felt cornered, and she knew exactly who it was. 

“Clarke, it would do you well to free me.”

The alpha’s body trembled behind her, and Lexa knew overpowering her would be all too easy. The Skaikru heir tightened her meager grip, her weight leaning tiredly on Lexa’s back. 

“Who are you?”

Lexa didn't move a muscle, knowing that it would be taken as a sign of aggression. She didn't want to hurt the woman who saved her, but she would. The voice of doubt, the way her omega growled at the thought, had her repeating it in her head. She would hurt this alpha if she had to. 

“Think, Clarke.”

It took several moments, and Lexa’s patience was wearing thin, but the blade slowly dropped from her throat. 

“We won?”

Lexa could tell that the alpha was relying on her to stand, and she slowly maneuvered so that she could slip an arm around Clarke’s waist. The alpha’s pheromones shifted and withdrew, but if Lexa was more gentle with Clarke as she walked her to the bed than she had been to anybody in the whole of her life, she would blame it on her debt to the woman. 

Clarke sat slowly on the bed, trying to mask the weakness and pain with a frown. Lexa heard her let out a low hiss, and then the alpha bowed her head.

“Heda.”

Lexa waited until her eyes rose again, and she spoke low. 

“Do you remember now, Clarke?”

Clarke nodded once, eyes dark and lidded. 

“How many Skaikru were lost?”

It's the way she says it, sharp as glass and just as fragile, that has Lexa reluctant to reveal any information to her. 

“You need to rest.” Clarke’s eyes narrowed, a growl rumbling in her chest, and Lexa lets loose a warning of her own. “Watch yourself, alpha.”

Footsteps outside interrupt their stubborn stare-off. 

“Heda, General Indra sent me to find you.”

Lexa left her private quarters to push through to the outside. A Podakru runner stood outside, eyes diverted nervously. 

“What is it?”

He bowed his head.

“The first four pyres will be completed tonight.”

Lexa’s felt the distant pain of loss, but she ignored it in favor of nodding her understanding. 

“Spread the word. We will name each warrior.”

The runner nodded and bowed once more before taking off into the camp. Lexa turned to find Clarke leaning against the center post in the tent, eyes hard. 

“How many, commander?”

Lexa’s jaw clenched, and she met Clarke’s eyes.

“It is not my place, Clarke.”

Clarke tried to push herself off the post, only to stumble and drop to her knees. Though her omega tugged and pushed for her to go help, Lexa remained rooted to the floor. Lexa placed her hands behind her back. 

“You are overexerting yourself.”

She could feel the frustration coming from the alpha. Clarke snarled and pushed herself to her feet, her skin pale and mottled. 

“Answer my question!”

Lexa quickly moved forward, pressing Clarke back against the pole- partially for emphasis, partially to keep her standing. Her voice came out in a low snarl. 

“Watch yourself, alpha. Know your place.”

Clarke’s teeth bared back in a growl, her blue eyes flashing, but she seemed to get herself under control. 

“Sha, Heda.”

Lexa took a step back. 

“Good. Go sit.”

Clarke limped through the flap and over to the bed, dropping pathetically into it. 

The tent opened behind Lexa, and she turned to find Abby hurrying back in with dirt streaked on her face. 

“Where have you been, Skaiheda?”

Abby looked haunted, her hair a mess and her clothes covered in mud. 

“Building the pyres.”

Lexa nodded in understanding. 

“Your daughter is awake.”

Abby’s eyes widened, and she moved passed Lexa into her private quarters. 

“Clarke!”

“Mother….” There was a rustle and then, “What were our losses?”

“Clarke--”

The wave of pheromones that flashed outward had Lexa gritting her teeth. Clarke huffed. 

“No. Give me an answer. Now.”

There was a moment of silence, and the weaker, pain-ridden pheromones from Abby began to leak through the room. 

“There was an Azgeda battalion camped near the tunnel exit… the front of the group….”

“No…”

Abby’s voice became gruff with emotion. 

“We lost the first one hundred…”

“Children?”

Abby sighed.

“Forty dead.”

The snarl that ripped through the tent had Lexa’s hair standing on end. Abby continued. 

“Clarke… your father, he-”

Sound of crashing was a precursor to a tormented alpha barreling out of the tent in just her trousers and the band wrapped on her chest. She roared, her head tilted toward the sky and her pheromones wafting out of her in torrents. Only Lexa’s training kept her from her knees, but she slowly exited behind the pair, and she found that anyone in Clarke’s radius was in varying states of submission. Even Abby had dropped to one knee, her body rigid. 

Lexa’s omega whined within her chest, and she snarled low, her frustration mounting at herself. 

Clarke dropped to her knees, her eyes still on the sky, and noted the way warriors moved closer, watching in awe at how Clarke’s strength had manifested, even as it now slowly faded away. 

Clarke’s head dropped down, and her body slumped forward at once. She hit the dirt, unconscious. Lexa watched on passively, but her chest wrenched painfully, and her jaw felt as if it would crack. She grabbed one of the spectators. 

“Find Nyko. Quickly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you all thought!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So just some clarification on the ABO elements I'm working with:
> 
> 1) I don't write dubious consent stuff, so that's not going to be a part of this story.  
> 2) Omegas aren't the weak disposition to be born with. Pheromones still work the same, but Omegas aren't looked at as "less."  
> 3) there are common factors of ABO that will be here (knotting, pheromones, etc.), but there will also be elements specific to this story that I'm going to put it (Lexa's ability to overwhelm and subdue anyone). They will be explained throughout haha. 
> 
> As for the world, it's basically the same as the show, but just imagine it as if they didn't all forget about technology or how to use it. At least not all of them. 
> 
> This is unedited.

Everything hurt. Her mind felt too large for her skull and her entire torso burned as if submerged in hot oil. She groaned, opening her eyes to a tent she did not recognize. She jerked into a sitting position, nearly howling at the pain of it, the way her chest felt torn in half. Pushing through, Clarke tried to reign in her fear, her anger. It would not do to have her captors know her feelings. Nia may wish for her hand, but Clarke would use it to slit her throat. 

She searched around the room, finding several well-sharpened knives. She didn't rest in her confusion, simply taking one with a thin handle and blade. She moved toward the tent flap only to freeze at the sound of entry.

The smell that preceded the enemy was one of immense power cloaked under a heavenly scent. Clarke knew that smell, like the leaves of autumn covered in rain, the dirt of the forest freshly turned. She couldn't place it before the omega, it had to be an omega, pushed into the room. Clarke let her instincts run her, reaching out as the omega walked into the room and dragging them against her chest. Her knife found its position against the woman’s throat.

The exertion it took to create this situation about had Clarke falling to her knees. She was so weak, weaker than she could remember ever being before. And the omega she held against her was overwhelming her. She barely caught the calm words, the way they passed through her with command. 

“Clarke, it would do you well to free me.”

Something about her voice chimed in her pounding skull, but the reason for the sense of familiarity remained a mystery. Clarke felt the tremble in her body. She knew the omega did too. The next words spoke were sharp with command, heavy with force.

“Think, Clarke.”

Something in her mind clicked in place, the the flashes from the battle, the grim determination from her warriors, the vibrant, devastating eyes of the commander focused solely on her. The commander’s order for her to survive. She dropped the blade from her Heda’s throat.

“We won?”

The woman in command of the twelve clans. The cause for the coalition. She guided Clarke to the bed. Clarke had held a blade to her throat. It was cause enough to warrant a swift death. She wanted to cry out as she sat, but it would not do to show weakness to her commander. She bowed her head.

“Heda.”

She returned her eyes to the omega’s and found the sharp gaze of a leader, the frightening calmness of somebody with all the power. The commander’s face revealed nothing. 

“Do you remember now, Clarke?”

Clarke thought back to her warriors, they way they charged into their deaths with hope and courage; Charged to their deaths because of her. 

“How many Skaikru were lost?”

She saw something then, something a bit too much like pity. The commander spoke sternly. 

“You need to rest.” 

Clarke couldn't help the snarl, the way her alpha reacted to the brush-off, to being coddled. She felt the flux of power as the commander glared back. 

“Watch yourself, alpha.”

Clarke is interrupted by the arrival of a runner, and she forced herself to stand in order to hear what was being said. 

“....four pyres will be completed tonight.” 

Pyres… Clarke wondered how many days she'd been unconscious. The commander’s voice was ice-cold, unfeeling, when she responded.

“Spread the word. We will name every warrior.”

Clarke felt dread hit her like the spray of a violent storm. She had to know. When the commander faced her once more, Clarke tried to look stronger than her pain. 

“How many, commander?”

Clarke could see the tick in the omega’s jaw. She was in dangerous waters. Still, the omega refused to answer, and Clarke moved toward her in a desperate fury, only to be crippled by her own weakness. She fell to her knees, the drop jarring her battered body. Heda didn't move. Her voice remained cold.

“You are overexerting yourself. 

Clarke trembled violently as she forced herself to stand, a snarl on her lips. 

“Answer my question!”

The commander moved faster than Clarke expected, her pheromones flaring in a way similar to an alpha’s. Clarke didn't think on it as the omega had her pinned against the pillar teeth bared and eyes hard. 

“Watch yourself, alpha. Know your place.”

She knew to respect the warning, to submit to her Heda. Her alpha felt throttled and weak amidst the omega’s anger. She'd never experienced anything like it before. 

“Sha, Heda.”

And Clarke sat, she followed orders for once, but the approaching scent had her bones aching. She heard the rough cadence of her mother’s voice, but her pheromones wafted off of her with a limitless misery, a burden too heavy to bare. Clarke met her mother’s eyes as soon as she passed into the quarters. 

“Mother….” Clarke couldn't escape the horror etched in her sire’s eyes. The gray had overcome all warmth there. She had to know, and yet, somehow, she already did. She stood. “What were our losses?”

Her chest broke apart at the way her mother’s face fell, at the way her pheromones cascaded around them in despair. 

“Clarke--”

Enough. Clarke couldn't control the way her alpha bristled and aimed to control. 

“No. Give me an answer. Now.”

Her mother’s pheromones broke free, and Clarke almost fell to her knees. Abby dropped her gaze.

“There was an Azgeda battalion camped near the tunnel exit… the front of the group….”

Clarke saw horrific images, the terror of the young and old, of the soldiers who failed to protect them.

“No…”

Her mother’s eyes filled with unshed tears, voice gruff.

“We lost the first one hundred…”

“Children?”

Abby sighed.

“Forty dead.”

Clarke snarled, her body lighting with an unholy fury, the undeniable need to break apart the Azgeda one by one. She hurt fiercely for her people’s loss. Abby shrunk back. 

“Clarke… your father, he-”

Clarke’s body went cold, numb, and the burnt with hate and unimaginable pain. She turned and flung the furs from the bed and ripped apart the frame, her chest actually tearing and her eyes filling. She felt like she was suffocating, as if she might die if she remained within any longer. 

Clarke fling herself past the tent flap, past the still commander who watched her without emotion, and out into the daylight. She had no control over her alpha as it threw itself against the boundaries of her mind. Her roar echoed from deep in her chest, and her eyes moved to the sky that her father adored. She felt her strength go out, her heart pleading for death. She’d failed them all.

~<€~<€~<€~<€

When Clarke woke again, she found her body in severe agony. It was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. She blinked slowly, noting the way the tent was lit only by torches. 

It took her another moment to recognize that she wasn't alone. The Heda sat in a chair, full regalia and warpaint imposing a severe figure. Clarke tried to sit up, succeeding after several long moments of pain. The commander stood and nodded to Clarke’s right. 

“Eat. The first Burning will begin when you are ready.”

Clarke tried to hide the sorrow that sprang to life once more within her. She looked at the dried meat and berries on the plate and felt herself repulsed. She moved to kick her feet off the bed.

“I am ready now.”

The commander stepped forward, eyes sharp. 

“Eat. Now.”

Clarke bit back a snarl and reached for the meal. She ignored the meat, focusing on the various berries that burst in her mouth. They tasted like ashes. The ashes that would come tonight after the Burnings. She ate all she could stomach before pushing the tray away. The commander nodded toward the plate.

“And the meat.”

Clarke’s teeth ached as she clamped them shut. She battered her alpha into submission and reached for a piece of the meat. She tore into it, the toughness giving her some release. She ate every piece, glaring at her Heda the entire time. The commander stared right back. 

As soon as she finished, Clarke stood expectantly. The commander spoke quietly.

“Clarke.” Clarke met her eyes. “You must prepare. You cannot be weak in front of your soldiers; your people.”

Clarke wanted to grab the omega by her armor and shake her. She wanted to ask how she could ever stand in front of her father’s body and remain emotionless. 

“My people do not fear emotion as yours do. It is not a sign of weakness to mourn. It is human.”

The commander tilted her head.

“To mourn is to be less. Love requires connection, connection creates weakness. Death is not sad to one who is alone.”

Clarke bristled.

“You may have your loneliness, then, commander. I do not want it.”

The commander watched Clarke unflinchingly. Then she nodded and turned to leave.

“It is your choice, Clarke.”

Clarke didn't understand what she meant until her eyes searched the room and found two very different sets of armor awaiting her. One was her Skaikru leathers, black and white cloak resting beside it with white paint ready for application. It was what she expected to find. 

Beside it was a set of armor she'd heard tale of. Before the coalition, before the thought of peace, Trikru was unknown to those outside it. Their people made no alliances, their craftsmen and women made no trades. Their warriors left no survivors. 

Skaikru had always reminded neutral with them, understanding their overwhelming power and being smart enough to not draw their ire. Because of this, Trikru began trading weapons, unmatched by any clan, to Skaikru for new medicines. On one such trip that would be told of for decades, centuries even, an Azgeda ambassador was within the walls of Skaikru to speak of the possibility of uniting the two clans. It had always been known that Azgeda wanted access to the rich fields that grew magnificent plants. Many attempts had been made to coerce, trade, or force it away. Skaikru had always prevailed. 

On that day, the Heda of Trikru had entered Arkadia, his body covered in black leathers and a bright red sash to mark him. He was magnificent; an omega, and an intelligent leader. The Azgeda ambassador had heard of this and planned to kill the Heda while he walked the city. 

He'd just stepped out, prepared to assassinate the commander, when a figure- armor dark as night and cloak to match, had moved in front of him and killed him with a single spear of ice. The figure, blood-red markings the part of her face that wasn't covered by a cowl, had disappeared into the crowd just as quickly. 

As the clans had begun making contact once more soon after, others told tales of this figure, this shadow to the Triheda. 

Clarke had clung to this story as a child, had loved the idea of being the secret protector of a leader. She'd asked her mother if she could be such a thing instead of taking over the mantle of Skaiheda. It had been received with a sharp reprimand. 

Now here she stood, night armor, obsidian cloak, and blood-red paint. The commander offered her a choice. To remain as the heir to her people, a people that she had failed. Or to join her, become her shadow. To be unseen.

The choice was easy. 

~<€~<€~<€~<€

Clarke stood in front of a small mirror, her face sickly gray and bruised. Her fingers shook as she raised them to her cheeks. With as much care as possible, she ran her red-coated fingers from her temple, over her eyes and nose, and to the other side. It was slanted slightly, and on the top near her right eye, she made a streak. On the bottom, near her left, she painted one in the opposing direction. The asymmetric design, dark as blood, soothed her. She slowly stepped back, washed her hands in a small bowl provided, and turned to the cloak. 

It was heavy and soft, a fine material. It fit around her shoulders and clipped to the dangerous-looking armor she wore from head to toe. She was unused to such coverage, but the armor was oddly flexible and comfortable. She noted the lack of a cowl, and wondered if that part of the story had been crafted by unreliable witnesses. 

Clarke took a deep breath, ignoring the severe pain she felt, and turned to exit the private quarters of the commander. The omega was waiting for her by the war room, and her eyes looked up, unsurprised as Clarke exited in the armor of the shadowed one. 

She came to a stop in front of her Heda and bowed her head. She said nothing. The commander held out her hands. Within them was Clarke’s sheathed weapon. 

“It is fitting that you have this, Clarke. It belonged to the last Trikova. The Triheda before me had it made for her.”

Clarke took the weapon in her hands, the smooth edges of her scabbard she was used to feeling dulled by her black gloves. She clipped the weapon to her waist and placed her hands behind her back despite the pull on her chest. The commander studied her silently, and somewhere hidden beneath Clarke’s sorrow was a element of magnetic compulsion towards the omega before her. She easily pushed it aside. The commander nodded her head. 

“You are Trikova. You are no longer Clarke, heir to Skaikru. Your duty is to me and no other. You answer to me. No other. You will be my eyes in places I cannot see. Your weapon will go where mine cannot. Your word will be law among the clans, and you will lend me your mind for strategy.”

Clarke felt power in the words, felt distance from the people she failed. Her chance to begin again. She nodded.

“Sha, Heda.”

The commander studied her. 

“The people will know you, Trikova. They will come to love you, and fear you. More than they already do.” The commander turned away. “Come Clarke. Let us lay the dead to their rest.”

Clarke’s chest ached at the words, but she followed after her Heda. Her hand fell to rest on her blade, and her head remained high despite the drag of shame and sorrow. Her heart thudded strangely in her chest when they exited the tent and warriors created a path with their bodies. Some faces were stern, some afraid, some awed, others proud, and they all looked at Clarke. As the commander began to walk, Clarke at her right and the guards behind them, the warriors began to salute. 

The Skaikru salute. A rumble went through the hundreds, powerful murmurs that set Clarke’s bones to rattle and her alpha to straighten. They were saluting her. 

The further they walked, the louder the chant rose, the more fists pounded against bodies in respect. Clarke was overwhelmed. The commander seamlessly changed pace to allow Clarke beside her. 

“Word travels fast, Trikova. Your warriors that survived, the warriors that fought with you; they speak your name with reverence. They honor you.”

Clarke contained her growl.

“They shouldn't.”

The commander didn't respond for a moment. When she did, her voice had not changed. 

“Clarke, receive it well. You deserve their praise.”

She didn't. She knew she didn't. Still, Clarke refrained from arguing. Her Heda returned half a step ahead, shoulders back and eyes forward. The march continued, the chanting growing louder and louder. When she caught sight of the twelve tall posts, each carved with clan symbols and colors, Clarke felt her chest seize. The four posts front and center held only the colors of Skaikru, and their banner was tacked to each post. 

She wanted to crumble to the ground, to go mad, to slaughter the Azgeda queen without mercy. They came to a clearing, a space where her mother waited with a harrowed face. She did not seem surprised to see Clarke as Trikova. Her people surrounded the first pyre, but they met Clarke’s gaze with proud ones, and they beat their chests in salute, and they chanted her name loudly for the world to hear. 

She wanted to shout for them to stop, she wanted to growl out that she didn't deserve their praise. She'd led men and women to their deaths for nothing at all. She had taken warriors that could've protected the children. Her heart felt shattered in her chest. The commander came to a stop beside Abby and nodded her head.

“Heda. Trikova.”

It was jarring, to have her mother speak her new name, accepting Clarke’s choice and removing any claim she held. Clarke still couldn't find it in herself to regret the decision. 

The commander held a hand out.

“You may proceed, Skaiheda. The losses of your people have been greater than any other.”

Clarke’s mother nodded her head, and she pulled a scroll from her side to unravel. Her voice rang loudly, filled with power, across the clearing. The names of the young were read, leading to loud wails of the people. Next came the old. Then came the warriors. 

Every name was one known to Clarke, whether personally or in passing, and she felt each like a heated brand across her chest. Her mouth almost loosed a sob as Omela’s name was read, and she felt something strange from the omega beside her. Something soothing and fierce. Something giving her strength. Clarke latched on. 

When her father’s name crossed Abby’s lips, the alpha faltered, her voice shaking violently. Clarke moved forward, but the commander grabbed her wrist tightly. She squeezed once, and order, and Clarke froze. Soon enough, Abby spoke his name. 

“Jacob Griffin.”

A fist-pounding salute followed her father’s name, and Clarke let the pride in him sink in. Her father deserved their honor. She did not. The bodies within the rectangle were covered by large blankets, stacked together like warriors in an impenetrable wall. Clarke missed the rest of the names as she stared at the place her father’s ashes would rest. It wasn't until she heard silence that she looked up. Her mother stared.

“Trikova, the honor is yours.”

Knowing her duty, Clarke waited for the commander’s consent. The omega nodded sharply, and Clarke walked to the pyre. She stared at it for several long moments, eyes imprinted with memories and a future she would never have. A future they would never have. 

Instead of lighting the pyre with torches, Clarke held up her right hand. She ignored the gasps when flames rose out, and she ignored the way the commander’s eyes burned into her back as she knelt before the pyre and pressed her hand upon it. The fire spread out quickly, leaching onto the dry wood and fabric there. Clarke waited until it went up in flames before standing and stepping away. 

She walked back to the commander and settled into position. She could feel the anger simmering from the omega, and silently wondered if she would lose her title in the same night she received it. 

The next three pyres were treated with the same respect, Abby reading the names of the fallen warriors. This would continue for the next two nights until each warrior could be laid to rest, their ashes returned to the earth. 

Clarke remained standing through it all, despite the strength in her ebbing out in every passing minute. The food, she reluctantly admitted, was probably the only thing keeping her on her feet. By the time the last of the fires burned out, Clarke’s willpower was all that remained. She was relieved when the commander turned in respectful silence and made the trek back to her tent. 

Clarke was unsure whether to follow her inside, but the unanswered questions and coming scolding were enough to send her forward. Sure enough, the commander was in front of her, eyes blazing, the moment she stepped into the tent.

“Do you think before you act, alpha?”

Clarke sighed, trying to hide the fact that much longer and she'd collapse. 

“Of what do you speak?”

The commander snarled, her pheromones doing that strange, alpha-like oppression from before. This time, it slithered into Clarke and coaxed her Alpha into absolute submission. Clarke found herself on her knees before she could think. The commander stood over her.

“You have tested me much today, Trikova. Do not be a fool.”

Clarke let herself rest on her heels. 

“You said I am to lend you my mind, Heda. Do you not believe it is time to erase this fear of magic? It limits our people.” Clarke passed, then reiterated. She had no people now. “Your people.”

The commander’s jaw clenched and loosened, her eyes hard. 

“You will speak to me before such displays again, Trikova.”

Clarke grabbed onto a chair and yanked herself to her feet.

“Sha, Heda.” If there was a bite of sarcasm there, Clarke hoped Lexa wouldn't hear it. Clarke motioned to the exit. “I will find new accommodations.” 

“No.”

Clarke’s head jerked toward the commander and she huffed. 

“Should I sleep at your feet like a dog, then?”

The commander bristled, and Clarke wondered how much she could do before the omega struck her head from her shoulders. The Heda turned on her heel.

“A cot has been brought for you. It does not do for one to separate from their shadow.”

Clarke sighed, but she was too tired to argue for different arrangements. She would attempt to do so the next day… if she still lived. Her body moved jarringly to the flap, and she saw the added barriers within that area to give Clarke a semblance of privacy. 

Clarke did not complain, simply walking toward it, pushing through, and falling to the furs below. It was still comfortable, still a place for her broken body to rest. Her eyes closed the moment she laid her head down. 

~<€~<€~<€~<€

She woke with a start from her nightmare, the one that begin with her father among the trees, pointing at the stars. The one that ended with ashes that settle on, under Clarke’s flesh. Blood seeped from her pores and the smell of rotting flesh permeated the air. 

Now she lay gasping, her heart pounding and her body aching as she tried to forget. The sun was still low in the sky, but Clarke forced herself to her feet. She needed more rest, her body needed to heal. But this would do for now. She did not wish to return to her nightmares. 

Still in her full Trikova gear, Clarke walked quietly out of her partitioned area only to find that the commander was not there. She frowned and moved into the war room to find her Heda standing beside the war map, arm pressed against it and head down.

“Heda.”

To commander already seemed to be aware of Clarke’s presence, as she spoke without looking away.

“Approach.”

Clarke wanted to bristle at the simple command, and she questioned, not for the last time, her sanity in agreeing to be the commander’s lapdog. 

Clarke moved forward, eyes falling on the map where the Azgeda cities were marked with carved stones. There were black pieces of various shapes that Clarke assumed were representing the coalition. The blue pieces looked rougher, recently carved, but with a lack of effort. The commander shifted a piece.

“Azgeda cities are all built the same. Highly proficient at deterring armies, poor at keeping out one, two, even three enemy spies. Their walls are high and well-guarded, and their cities are situated in such a way to guard the one in the middle. The one that Nia resides within.” Lexa pushed four black pieces to rest over four of the seven cities. “We have spies within these. They say that there is a secret entry for woodsmen to bring in their cut for the day, as wood is a precious commodity for them, and it is rationed out to those in favor with the queen. It is a way in.”

Clarke frowned, mind kicking into action. This was what she loved, what she was good at. 

“But these are outlying cities. We could take all six and still have the hardest battle ahead of us. It would demoralize the warriors. Our losses would be vast.”

The commander’s jaw clicked.

“Tell me something new, Trikova. I want answers, not a reiteration of our problems.”

Clarke found herself bristling as well.

“You are very impatient, Heda.”

The commander’s head snapped to the side.

“You are brash and foolish. Watch your tongue.”

Clarke sighed and studied the map. She pointed at a gap between two cities. 

“This is where their main source of wood is located?” 

The commander nodded and also pointed to a different space. 

“And there. They are running low, and the next forest is within Floukru territory. They are becoming desperate.”

Clarke closed her eyes and let the map appear in her mind, let the pieces move on their own. At last, she spoke, eyes opening and returning to the forest between the cities.

“It is fair to assume that much of the wood is brought to Nia’s city. Unless she wants a riot or theft on her hands, do you not think it would have its own secret entrance?”

The commander nodded.

“Of course.”

Clarke pursed her lips.

“Then we just need to get a few soldiers through this forest and into the city.”

The commander scoffed.

“You speak as if that would not be difficult.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, glad that her Heda could not see them.

“It would not be easy, Heda. But with a distraction, it would not be that hard.”

The omega frowned as Clarke began to move pieces of the coalition army to a city away from the forest. Clarke nodded.

“Their attention is drawn by the full force of your army, yes? Your best warrior can make their way through the forest and enter through the secret passage.”

“It is too much to be left to chance.”

Clarke shook her head.

“Not if those four you have already within the city can get eyes on at least the passage. Just one of them.”

“It is difficult to become a woodsman. It would be suspicious.”

Clarke’s chest rumbled in frustration, but at the commander’s sharp glare, she let it go. 

“How long have your people been within the walls?”

“One, six months, another, a year. The first two have been there for three years.”

Clarke tapped the table.

“One of them, then. They will not draw suspicion.”

The commander said nothing for several long moments, but the tick in her jaw was as revealing to Clarke as words would have been. Finally,

“I will get word to them. We’ll see what they can do.” She cleared off the map and boxed the pieces. “Food has been laid out. Be prepared to leave soon.”

The commander turned and retreated to her room without another word. Clarke rolled her eyes, alpha rustling in frustration. She wasn't used to people commanding her. 

In a way, it helped. It was better to feel rage than the devastation and pain that wracked her. The commander’s sharp tongue and total disregard for decent interaction were challenging and constantly aggravating her into feeling more frustration than anything else.

Clarke would say it were on purpose if it weren’t the commander. She had a feeling that her Heda didn't have a single empathetic bone in her body. Her face was cold, her omega was locked down, perfectly under control, and her voice was hollow like everything soft and good had been scraped from her. It made her a great leader, capable of making intelligent choices without bias. It also made her less human. 

At this moment in time, with Clarke’s chest feeling like it would crack in half, she wished she were less human as well. Despite wanting to ignore the meal out of spite, Clarke knew she needed something to keep her standing. She picked through the berries and half the bread, saving her meat for last. It was cooked this time, not dried, and she savored the way it played across her tongue and throat. By the time she finished, the commander returned from her space.

Her face was painted and stern, and she showed no emotion as she watched Clarke. 

“You will be sworn to me today in front of the hedas from the clans and my generals. You have until the sun’s setting to make your final choice. After you are mine, there is no going back unless I release you.” 

Her eyes flashed with something that Clarke couldn't read. No surprise there, but the fact that Clarke saw anything close to an emotional reaction had her curious. She narrowed her eyes.

“And let me guess: you don't plan on releasing me.”

Her Heda’s omega brushed along Clarke’s skin in warning, the threat of a repeat from the night before had Clarke tensing. She needed to figure out how the commander was capable of subduing alphas like that. The commander's words were hard when she responded

“You will be privy to many things. It would not do for you to gain knowledge and leave, Trikova.”

Clarke held back her snarl at the implication that she would betray the coalition, instead she moved forward a step.

“So I will be with you until death?”

The commander nodded, the green in her eyes flashing.

“Until death. By the hand of the enemy, or by my own.”

Clarke nodded and then stepped aside, hoping to make it through at least the day without eliciting the wrath of the Heda. The commander moved toward the exit and flung the flap aside, and Clarke followed after her with a huff. 

“Clarke!”

Her head jerked to the side even as guards moved toward the approaching figures. Clarke recognized Octavia, Finn, Bellamy, and Raven and she tensed, wholly unsure how this interaction would go. The guards blocked the four, but Clarke moved forward.

“Let the through.”

The guards paused to glance back at their Heda, and Clarke scoffed. So much for her word being ‘law.’ Apparently the commander didn't deem the four as a threat, and the guards moved out of the way. 

Clarke didn't move as they approached, but she felt immense relief when Octavia threw her arms around her, followed quickly by Raven. Bellamy held back, but he gave her a nod of respect. She regretted not ending things with Finn when he swooped forward and about strangled her in a hug. 

“I was so worried about you.”

It took everything in her not to snap at him. She instead ignored him and turned to Raven and Octavia. Octavia was quick to explain their presence. 

“Are you sure this is what you want, Clarke?”

Raven stepped a bit closer, edging out Finn. 

“I know you think you are to blame, but you're not. You don't have to go.”

Clarke’s jaw clenched.

“Yes, I do.”

Leave it to Finn to not know his place.

“You don't!”

Clarke’s chest rumbled and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Silence, Finn.”

He took a step back in shock, and Clarke refocused on the two women before her. 

“I'm going.”

Raven clapped her on the shoulder and smiled smugly at Octavia.

“Told you, Octavia.” She looked to Clarke. “Guess I'm coming with, then.”

Clarke frowned even as Octavia shrugged.

“Eh, guess I will too.”

Bellamy growled.

“Like hell, Octavia.”

Octavia bristled. 

“Try and stop me, Bell. Remember how well that went last time?”

Bellamy’s angry mask flickered to reveal the real reason for his disagreement.

“I can't lose you too, O.”

Octavia looked at Clarke for a long moment, then found her brother again. 

“There's no more room for sentiment, Bell. Our people deserve vengeance.”

Finn seemed to overcome his surprise at Clarke’s reprimand and put his foot in his mouth.

“None of you have to go! This omega bitch has no right to force this on you!”

He made two mistakes in such a short outburst, and Clarke felt the pheromones of everyone around her unfurl. She was quick to be the first to react, and her blade was at Finn’s throat a second after. She spoke calmly, but her alpha wanted her to push the blade just a bit, to teach him a lesson he would remember. He'd always been a bit to cocky, a bit too haughty.

“Finn, do you want to lose your tongue?”

His face had gone pale. Her alpha relished this. She let her alpha overwhelm him, bring him to his knees. She dropped her weapon.

“You will show respect to your Heda, or you will pay the price.”

He was pathetic, truly. The way his eyes watered as he looked at her made her grimace. 

“Clarke, please. What about us?”

Clarke snarled.

“There is no us. You are making a fool of yourself, Finn. Leave.”

The beta scrambled to his feet, eyes still on Clarke. As he backed away, they moved to Lexa, and Clarke could see the way his eyes darkened, could tell that he was going to say something else. Something that would get him killed. She let her pheromones lash out, causing him to stumble once more and forcing him to lose his train of thought. Clarke glared at the guard beside her.

“Make sure he goes back to Arkadia.” 

This time, the guard only hesitated a moment before bowing. 

“Yes, Trikova.”

As the man disappeared after Finn, Clarke returned her attention to the remaining three. 

“Raven, Octavia, you must request this of Heda.”

Octavia nodded her head respectfully, trying to ease the tense bodies around her. 

“Heda, permission to approach?”

A part of Clarke was sure that the commander would deny them. But a stern ‘granted’ had both woman going to her. Clarke turned to Bellamy.

“I'm trusting you to protect my mother, Bellamy. She'll need support.”

Her old friend nodded, jaw locked in place. Clarke stepped into his space. 

“No more alpha bullshit. You have power within my clan--” she shook her head. “Your clan. Don't waste it.”

Bellamy huffed, then wrapped her in a hug, minding her injuries. Before he pulled away, he spoke quietly. 

“Skaikru will always be your clan.”

With that, he pulled away and took several steps back. Clarke didn't disagree with him verbally, instead turning her attention to her Heda. Raven was speaking, looking a little too comfortable as she always did, but the commander seemed more intrigued than she did put off. Clarke picked up on the conversation as they moved closer.

“...to speak across long distances. The bugs aren't all worked out of them, but they successfully connect.”

Lexa stared at her a long moment before nodding. 

“Very well.” She spoke quietly to a guard, then motioned toward Arkadia. “Retrieve your projects, Raven. Any materials you need will be provided if you can create more of these… communicators.”

Raven shot Clarke a triumphant look, and Clarke bit back a grin. Raven had also always been a bit too confident for her own good, but she generally made up for it each day with what she provided in return. As the pair walked away, Heda focused on Octavia.

“And you? What do you offer?”

Octavia’s normally brash nature seemed subdued, something Clarke was extremely thankful for.

“My sword for your elite, Heda.”

The commander placed her hands behind her back. 

“I have many swords.”

Octavia’s grin, the one that always came out to play when her abilities were questioned, flashed on her face.

“None like mine.”

To Clarke’s surprise, the commander turned to her.

“Can you confirm this, Trikova?”

It was the first time the commander had posed a question as a question and not a command under the guise of one. Clarke bowed her head.

“She's beaten me once.”

“Twice!”

Clarke rolled her eyes and grinned despite the situation. 

“Octavia, you know it does not count if somebody else made the finishing blow.”

Octavia glared at her.

“I would've had you.”

Clarke could see the way her commander shifted restlessly, and she quickly sobered up. 

“Heda, I can confirm that her addition to your elite will be beneficial for all.”

The commander nodded. 

“Very well.” She motioned to another guard. “Take her to Indra. If she makes it beyond a minute with her, she will join my elite. If she does not, she will march with the rest of our force.”

The guard nodded and moved off, Octavia following behind them. Clarke made her way back to her Heda. The omega glanced at her.

“Are we done with this? Or do you need to speak with more friend and lovers?”

Clarke’s eyes shot to the commander’s at the iron in her voice, but as usual, she revealed nothing. 

“There will be no more interruptions, Heda.”

“Good.”

The commander began walking at that, forcing Clarke to move quickly to her side. She remained there for the first part of the walk, and then slowly fell back behind the five guards with her. If she was going to be the commander’s shadow, it would not do for everyone to know exactly where she was, and exactly how to get around her. 

The rest of the trip to the healers tent, Clarke moved with precision and speed, but she kept her distance from Heda. She kept her eyes peeled and her alpha unleashed to read any hint of discontent or aggression from those surrounding them. 

It was rigorous work, requiring the entirety of her focus and the awareness of her Alpha. It was a duty she found numbed the other sensations within her. She had no time to mourn when she was hell-bent on protecting her Heda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. I'm flying by the seat of my pants at the moment lol. But I really enjoy writing this.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, let me know what you thought.


End file.
